That seems like an odd thing to say, but I really didn’t enjoy my year of being 40.

I had already built up a sense of mental dread about 40, months before my birthday rolled around. Then when 40 actually hit, I was already down and out, recovering from hernia surgery. While it got me out of some chores around the house for a couple of months, it still wasn’t a whole lot of fun.

I got that question from my 13-year-old son recently, as he was scrolling through our iTunes library. We had just watched a cover of Iron Maiden’s “The Trooper” by 2 Cellos, which is just what it sounds like — a pair of cellists who play their own arrangements of rock songs from time to time.

Anyway, after hearing the 2 Cellos version, he went and found Iron Maiden’s original, and apparently, liked what he heard.

There’s a fat-tire bike on its way with my name on it — but I have mixed feelings about this development.

You’ve probably started seeing fat bikes around town. They’re basically mountain bikes with oversized tires — think monster truck compared to a regular pickup — roll over mud, snow, and just about anything else you can think of, even a line of junk cars, I’d bet.

There are some things I’m hesitant to discuss with people I’ve just met — religion and politics are probably near the top of the list.

People tend to have very strongly held views on those topics, and until you get to know them, you run the risk of getting into an argument over some casual remark that wasn’t intended to offend. When people whom I’ve just met bring those topics up, I try to listen politely and move on to another topic, usually with a Forrest Gump response — something factual but noncommittal, followed with “and that’s all I have to say about that.”

Last weekend, I loaded my family into the truck, hitched up the camper trailer, and we trekked up to Sheep Mountain, on the Glenn Highway, for what has become my annual participation in the Fireweed bicycle race.

For those who don’t know me, I took up cycling a few years ago as a way to get back into shape. Actually, I started with a couple of short triathlons, but bad knees limit my running, and while I can swim, I don’t necessarily enjoy it, so for me it’s all about the bike. I am now a MAMIL — Middle-Aged Man In Lycra — and loving it.

So, I was sitting in front of my computer screen Friday afternoon, trying to figure out what to write about, when inspiration struck.

Actually, what happened was that I was struggling with a column about how I drive my kids nuts by answering questions with a lyric from a 1980s rock song. For example, if they ask if I can make their eggs scrambled, I might answer with “Any way you want it.” (That’s Journey off the 1980 album “Departure,” for those who might not remember.)

There are those who, when a door, drawer or cabinet won’t close, open it back up and carefully look for the cause. We may empty and entire drawer just to find that one object that’s sticking up way in the back, or clean out the entire closet so that sleeve from that one jacket won’t keep getting caught in the door crack.

Then there are those who, when a door, drawer or cabinet won’t close, simply push harder, sometimes repeatedly. And if that doesn’t work, they put a shoulder or hip into it.

While web-surfing recently, I came across an acronym I hadn’t seen before: MAMIL, which stands for Middle Aged Man In Lycra.

My wife managed not to snort coffee out of her nose before saying, with a bit too much enthusiasm, “That’s you!”

It’s been a long time since I’ve been part of a demographic with its own acronym. I missed out on the yuppie thing — I was neither “urban” nor particularly “upwardly mobile” when I was a young professional. For a little while, my wife and I were DINKs — double-income, no kids — but that didn’t last long.

If we didn’t know it before, the credit card bill from our spring break trip to Hawaii confirmed it: my family is a bunch of foodies.

Indeed, while vacation planning for most people involves booking activities and scheduling day trips, my wife, kids and I spend the weeks leading up to a big trip poring over restaurant guides, picking out delectable-looking places to eat.